Deserving
by chrystaline
Summary: Beginning of 6th Year: Harry grieves for Sirius.


_AN: I found this somewhere on my computer. I was going to use this to kickstart a brand new Sevitus but that sort of fizzled out. I don't even know what this is supposed to be. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your comments/interpretations. Enjoy (:_

Harry climbed over the bars at the very top of the Astronomy Tower and sat perched on the ledge jutting out, legs dangling in the cold breeze. He reckoned that if he fell asleep there, he'd tumble down, down, down and never be seen again and that suited him just fine. It gave him a sense of danger, a sense of fear, something he no doubt deserved for the terrible mistakes he had made while in full control of himself. The wind rustled the trees beneath but he was so high up that he couldn't hear them move, only notice them sway gently.

He leaned back against the stone wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. His eyes swept Hogwarts sprawling grounds. The Astronomy Tower was the highest spire of Hogwarts Castle, and from here, he could see as far as the horizon. The lake shimmered in the early fall sunshine. The people below him milled about, clutching books and chatting happily about the summer holiday that just passed. He thought he could see Hermione's bushy hair and Ron's flaming red bobbing around amongst the people, no doubt looking for him in the throng. He smiled, wan and tired. No one could see up there and he was glad for it. He'd wait for the bell to ring before he headed down for Transfiguration. Although it signalled the end of his Auror dreams, not taking Potions this term suited him just fine. He didn't fancy that Slughorn guy too much when Dumbledore had brought him along to fetch him. Besides, he didn't want to be an Auror anymore. With his propensity of getting people killed due to his unforgivable foolishness, he'd end up killing more people rather than saving them.

Tears leaked from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks that were red from the cold, nipping breeze. He hugged his legs closer to himself and cast his gaze towards the lake instead. It was beautiful really, a sight that Sirius should have lived to see once more in the light and in the open. Of course, Harry put an end to that. He didn't use his feeble and frankly useless brain to think of the consequences before rushing in headfirst to save a man that didn't need saving. His fingernails dug into his flesh as he balled his hands into fists. The tears came hard, but he refused himself the privilege of sobbing. Sobbing would mean releasing all the pent up guilt and self-loathing and that just couldn't do. No, he deserved all this. Deserved it because he didn't think, no, he didn't want to think. He just wanted to be a bloody hero.

He sucked in a breath and exhaled quickly. Yes, he didn't deserve to be downstairs with his friends, laughing and chatting as they enjoyed the early morning sunshine, blurred days that Sirius had spent too with his friends. His stomach cramped in protest to its emptiness.

_No_, he denied it as it growled in protest. _Not allowed. _

He didn't deserve the good food the house elves placed on the long tables of the Great Hall, food that Sirius had enjoyed but couldn't enjoy anymore because of his blatant lack of grey matter.

He didn't deserve to sleep in the dormitories that Sirius had once closed his eyes in.

He didn't deserve the sport that he had loved so much. He fingered the Quidditch Captain badge that was pinned neatly on his tie. He'd return it first thing after Transfiguration. That's it. He thought of his Firebolt, sitting in the broom closet and a sob escaped his lips. That was the one thing he truly didn't deserve. He called to mind every turn he had made on that wondrous invention, every dive, every loop, every one that Sirius didn't, and would never, get to see. A dim fog of memories settled over him, Sirius laughing at a joke he'd made. Sirius singing God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs at the top of his lungs. Sirius, haggard and worn, wolfing down the food they had brought from Hogwarts for him. Sirius, face alight with his last smile, falling, ever so slowly, and then fading forever.

"Mr. Potter," a smooth, almost contemptuous voice intoned and Harry was secretly glad that it was Snape that discovered him. Snape would no doubt be here to insult him and degrade him for his stupidity and that suited him perfectly. Everyone refused to allow Harry to admit his guilt but Snape, who would possibly wield it like a sword, did. Harry said nothing as he extended his cramping legs and climbed back over the bars.

Snape was there in all his menacing glory, an eyebrow raised and his expression void.

"Care to explain what you are doing on a ledge this high up on the Astronomy Tower when you should be in the dungeons?" he drawled. Harry said nothing, only stared at him through wet eyes. Snape favoured him with a cool look.

"You're not mute, Potter," he snapped, although there seemed to be no true heat in his voice. "Answer me." Harry sighed.

"I got an E in my OWLs, sir," he said dully. He said many things dully nowadays. Snape folded his arms.

"And?"

"You only accept students with an O, sir," Harry said, confused. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Do I teach Potions, Potter?" he asked slowly, as if he were talking to a toddler who didn't quite understand what he was talking about. Harry shook his head. Snape smirked.

"Good job, Potter, I don't. Professor Slughorn is perfectly happy to accept E standard students into his class," Snape drawled then smirked. "A terrible idea, to say the least."

"Oh," was all Harry said.

"Go then!" Snape snapped, picking up Harry's bag and tossing it at him. Harry nodded through the headachy haze that was starting to build behind his eyes from too much crying. It wasn't until he reached Slughorn's class that it occurred to him that Snape didn't dock a single point.


End file.
